Eight Times
by honeymoonspiders
Summary: Blair and Chuck meet eight times in eight different circumstances.
1. Christmas

**Title: Eight Times**

Description: Eight little one-shots of Chuck and Blair interacting through the years. They will all be different in tone and subject matter; they are only related by the common theme of Chuck-Blair interaction. Enjoy!

**Christmas.**

Christmas in New York was magical that year. There was a jingling chill in the air that rang through the air, filling the city with an electrifying spark. The snow was drifting slowly to the ground, and the holiday lights were softly glowing in the store windows.

Blair Waldorf was not having a good day.

She was standing in an insanely long line at her favorite coffee shop, trying to warm her hands which were chilled despite her rabbit fur-lined gloves. All she wanted was a damn non-fat cappuccino with extra foam to warm her up. Her frustration with America's penchant for drinking over-complicated caramel non-fat vanilla sprinkles at 145 degrees lattes as well as the incompetence of said Americans to make them was vexing her to no end. She began to tap her foot in an uncharacteristic and unladylike fashion, her brand new Louboutin boots making soft sounds against the wet linoleum floor.

She glanced anxiously at her watch. The stores were closing soon, and she still needed to pick up Serena's Christmas present, as well as her dress for the annual Bass Holiday Gala. Suddenly, she heard the overly-obnoxious barista call out "Blair! Non-fat cappuccino to go!"

Blair glanced, bewildered, at the piercing-studded face of the barista who was staring right back at her with a raised eyebrow. She wordlessly took the cappuccino, the warmth a welcome solace to her fingers. A Christmas miracle maybe? Was God finally making his presence known in her life?

She felt a familiar presence behind her, and turned around slowly, trying to stifle the smile which began to bubble inside her mouth.

He came out with some slightly perverted quip about how hot she looked when she was frustrated.

She replied with some equally bristling comment as she contentedly sipped her cappuccino, several types of warmth washing over her.

He refused to carry her bags to the cab. She punched him in the arm; he feigned anger. She rolled her eyes and put her arms around him, the cappuccino warming his ear where the cup rested, the espresso tasting even better than he imagined inside her mouth as he kissed her shamelessly, sheltering her face from the cold wind.

He deposits her in the cab and tells her he'll see her later, and whispers in her ear something about how hot he's going to make her feel.

Blair smiles contentedly, letting the spark of the winter air crackle inside of her.


	2. Restaurant

**A/N: I'm going to try to finish the second chapter of "Solace" by this weekend, I promise!**

**Restaurant.**

Blair Waldorf had a deep, dark secret.

It was juicy, sweet, chewy, and slightly crunchy.

It was a secret called the chicken enchilada with extra cheese from Rudy's 24 Hour Mexican restaurant… we deliver.

Everything on the small menu was smothered in a nondescript brown sauce that the cook, when pressed for information, called "Salsa Mexicana" and swore that only on his deathbed would he pass down the secret to the miraculous brown liquid. Habitués of the place swore it had some sort of mood-enhancing drug in it, because the effect was almost instantaneous. After a sweet, satisfying bite of a tostada or a fish taco, covered in guacamole and sauce, all one's preoccupations and frenzied thoughts simply melted away into a warm contented glow that emanated from the stomach.

"I am the only one who knows the recipe. The only person in the world," the cook had once told Blair, tapping his greasy temple knowingly with his strong round finger.

"That must be lonely," Blair mumbled, halfway through her second taco. The cook chuckled and ruffled her hair, making her long dark curls shake.

"Ay niña. So young and yet so troubled, eh? What's on your mind? You can tell old Alejandro."

Blair looked up at him with mournful eyes. Normally, the fact that nacho grease had come within an inch of her perfectly coiffed hair would bother her, but not tonight. Not only was she half drunk on the peppermint schnopps that she had absentmindedly grabbed as she ran out the door; she was also heartbroken.

"Chuck mother-effing Bass," muttered drunkBlair, loudly sucking up horchata through the plastic straw.

"Mister Bass eh? What has he been doing now?" Alejadro asked over his shoulder, slicing up pork. Blair shuddered instinctively. She hated it when people called him "Mister Bass." It reminded her too much of his father.

Blair sighed. Of course the cook knew who Chuck was. Not only was he the richest man in the city, he was the one who had introduced her to this place and to the magical brown sauce. He had taken her there when she relapsed; it was the only thing that she wanted to eat without throwing up. Blair remembered how he had watched her slowly swallow every bite, his hand resting softly on her thigh, stroking circles.

She knew he came here fairly often when he wanted to be alone, but he had no idea that, late at night, she did the same. It had never occurred to Blair that he might talk about her. She paused.

"I had lunch with his friend. His best friend. Behind his back. Which would really not be that complicated if it wasn't for the fact that he is dating my best friend and he and I used to date until they had sex behind my back and then I had sex with his best friend behind his back to get him back and it would all be so much less complicated if we didn't have backs!" Blair slammed her cup on the counter, sending a few nachos to the floor.

Alejandro nodded knowingly. Blair sighed again; her drink was almost gone and she was quickly sobering. She absentmindedly wondered what horchata would taste like with peppermint schnopps.

"So que pasó? What happened to make you come here so late?" he pulled up a stool and sat facing Blair, his only customer. She ate another nacho and pondered the question.

"Alejandro, you're the only one who understands me. So I'll tell you," she paused dramatically.

"I didn't tell him about the lunch because Nate and I were planning his surprise party and I didn't want him to know anything because his last birthday we were fighting and it was so bad and I broke his Roman statue when I threw it out the window and it hit a car and then he had to pay a huge fine and then we didn't speak for a week and it was just terrible. Terrible, Alejandro, you know?"

Alejandro was silent, trying to process everything.

"And I didn't tell him because he gets so jealous even though it's been over between me and Nate for years now and we only hooked up once after that and it was stupid and drunk and I was sad and drunk… kind of like tonight," Blair's eyes began to fill with tears.

"He doesn't trust me… he doesn't love me!" Blair wailed with her head on the counter, decency be damned. Alejandro answered the phone that had been incessantly ringing while shooting a look of pity towards Blair.

Blair wiped her eyes on a napkin. It was moments like these that she wished she could just end it with Chuck once and for all. But she had tried, and he had tried, and they had both failed. They were Blair and Chuck, Chuck and Blair, and no matter how much it hurt they simply couldn't be with anyone else.

Blair hiccupped. It was 4:28. It had been hours since the fight, but she didn't want to go home. She knew he'd call the hotel she liked to stay at when they weren't speaking, so she couldn't go there either…

She was sobering up quickly, but the schnopps were all gone. Maybe this was it. This was their definitive break. Her heart ached and she wished she had more alcohol. Alejandro gently touched her arm, distracting her from her dark thoughts.

"Someone is here to see you," he said softly, gesturing towards the door.

Blair spun around on the bar stool, and sure enough there was Chuck, looking all disheveled in a way that Blair couldn't help but find incredibly sexy.

He strode towards her quickly. "What the fuck Blair?!" he growled angrily, and Blair's eyes began to water, the alcohol left in her system refusing to let her mask her emotions.

He stopped, sighed, and raised a hand to stroke her cheek as she bit her lip to keep the tears from falling. Chuck pulled her into his arms, not caring that her greasy hands were going all over his cashmere coat.

"Do you know… how long I've been looking for you?" he whispered into her ear as he held her.

"Does this mean you still love me, Bass?" she regained her composure and cockily smiled as she looked up into his eyes.

"I think you know just how much…" his raspy voice grazed her seductively as his hands moved down to her hips "I love you, Waldorf."

"When we get home, you can show me," Blair raised her eyebrows suggestively. Chuck could barely contain himself as she grabbed her purse, casually tossing some bills on the counter. They walked into the cold night, arm in arm.


End file.
